Look Yourself in the Eye
by ninjacatchester
Summary: Because maybe Gryffindors get so many happy endings because they're brave enough to pursue them. So look yourself in the eyes and realize this is right. \ VicNev, M&MWP \ one-shot


**Summary: **Because maybe Gryffindors get so many happy endings because they're brave enough to pursue them. So look yourself in the eyes and realize this is right. \ VicNev M&MWP \ one-shot

**Pairing:** Victoire/Neville, M&MWP

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter and VicNev is a Mew & Mor Weird Pairing.

**Authors Note:** As I've mentioned, VicNev is a M&MWP. However, I also mention Hannah/Rolf in this story, and Hannah/Rolf is also a M&MWP.

* * *

She's five when you first meet her. James has just been born, and you and Hannah have gone to visit. You'd somehow managed to arrive at the Potter Mansion just as all the Weasleys did, and so you're bombarded by a swarm of small children. Upon seeing that they don't actually know you, the smaller ones run to the back yard, giggling on the way.

But Victoire's five and that means she's all grown up and so she and Teddy, who's seven, stay to meet you. After you greet the many, many adult Weasleys, you get down on your haunches and say "Hi there. I'm Neville."

Teddy, being the older one, greets you first. "I'm Teddy," he says, "And I'm seven."

"And I'm Tori," she says, "And I'm five."

"Nice to meet you." You say.

Then, the two of them follow their cousins, although they walk quickly instead of run, because they are, of course, the older ones.

.o.

You see her again when she's six and when she's eight, when Albus and Lily are born respectively. Your interactions are just as short and simple and she's just a sweet little thing who amuses and enchants everyone she meets.

.o.

Then she's eleven and she's at Hogwarts and you recognize her name on roll call. She's older now, her silver blonde hair is tied in a single braid down her back, her blue eyes are alive and she wears her new Gryffindor scarf proudly.

When you call her name, she calls "Here!" loudly, and waves at you. You pause for the briefest moment to smile back at the girl you've met three times and continue.

.o.

In her fifth year, you marry Hannah Abbot.

Hannah is sweet as honey, lovely as a rose bud and warm as summer day. You're pretty sure you're in love with her.

.o.

Unlike many students, Tori chooses to continue Herbology. She's a Gryffindor amongst several Hufflepuffs and three Ravenclaws. She likes to work alone, but she's the most adventurous in the class. Whenever you introduce a new, dangerous plant, she's the first one to approach it, first one to try whatever it is the class is going to be trying. And you like that about her.

.o.

Then in her seventh year, when she's stayed behind to work after class one day, it hits you full on in the stomach. She's not a little girl anymore. She hasn't been for a long, long time. She's grown into a ravishingly beautiful woman.

Her silver blonde hair is long and she keeps it tightly in a French braid for Herbology. Her blue eyes sparkle like stars and she moves like a hot summer wind, lithe and graceful, pulling you in her wake. This realisation stuns you and you become more reserved in her company.

.o.

And then she's gone. Her seventh year is over, she's graduated and you find yourself missing the days when she was in your classes.

Then, one summer night, you meet her at the Hogs Head. She's twenty-one, you're thirty-nine and you start talking.

She tells you she has a boyfriend, and you feel an irrational pang of jealousy through you. You buy her a drink, just because you like talking to her you tell yourself, and the two of you chat easily for hours.

.o.

The next morning, you stumble to your bathroom. You peer into the mirror and you find you just can't bear to look yourself in the eyes. You look like the same person, but you don't feel like the same person. Hannah slips into the bathroom and hugs you sideways.

You wrap an arm around her and plant a kiss on her forehead and it feels _wrong._

This realization hits you like a pile of bricks.

"What's wrong honey?" she asks you as try desperately to pull yourself together again.

"Nothing, nothing." You reassure her, your mind reeling.

She looks doubtful, but slips out of the bathroom. You shut the door quickly behind her, and lock it.

Then you stare at yourself in the mirror, still carefully avoiding your own eye contact. You're not in love with your wife. You're in love with someone else. And you know exactly who that someone is. Merlin, you're in love with someone eighteen years younger than you.

.o.

You meet her again a week later at the Hogs Head. Her eyes are red and puffy, her face tearstained, and she looks a bit like living hell. But then, you imagine, you probably look worse. That's what not sleeping will do to you.

You start chatting again and when you finally work up the nerve to ask her what's wrong, she tells you that her boyfriend just broke up with her. You hate yourself as your heart sings a melody of hope.

When she asks you what's wrong, you say "I'm thinking of divorcing my wife."

When she asks why, you tell her it's because you think you might be in love with someone else.

Of course, you are lying. You _know_ you're in love with someone else, but you can hardly tell her that.

By the end of the night, you're both drunk and you find yourself apperating to her flat. You figure you'll probably hate yourself in the morning for this, but you're too drunk to care.

.o.

You wake up that morning in a foreign bed with a pounding headache and no clothes on. You roll over and see someone who is most _definitely_ not your wife sleeping beside you.

Your wife's hair is honey coloured, this girl's hair is silver blond. Your wife's features are soft, these features are elegant. Your wife sleeps on her back, this girl sleeps on her side. It's Victoire. You panic.

You begin tugging on clothes, intent on apperating away as soon as possible, but then you realize just how awful that would be, and that you really should apologize to her.

But you don't really want to stay in her bed and you don't really want to be there when she wakes up, so you head to her bathroom. You still can't look yourself in the eye because you've done something you never thought you'd do.

You hear shuffling in the bedroom behind you. You turn around to see Victoire, the woman you just _slept with,_ sit up. She glances around confused for a moment, before she sees you in the doorway of her bathroom. "Oh good Godric." Is all she can say.

You wince. "I'm sorry," you say, "I guess we were pretty drunk last night." She nods. "Can we just forget this happened? My wife will be wondering where I am."

"Alright." She says softly, "But can I at least get you some breakfast?"

You shake your head. "I have to go." You tell her.

She gives a small nod and you apperate away with a crack.

.o.

For the next few weeks, you throw yourself into your work. You're rarely home, you avoid people in general. You still can't look yourself in the eye when you look into the mirror, and so you avoid mirrors because they remind you of that fact.

You mull over your feelings and decide that you really don't love Hannah and that you really do love Victoire. You decide that it's not fair to Hannah, so one night you come home early and tell her the facts.

She takes it better than you expect. She admits she's been cheating on you too. With Rolf Scamander. Oh, the tangled lies we live.

.o.

Your divorce is organized easily. You're not constantly at each other's necks, and that makes it easier. She takes the flat and the furniture. You take your books and your clothes and your plants and what little knick knacks you've collected over the years.

You buy yourself a new apartment in Hogsmeade and decide you'll survive. Your apartment is painfully empty because you just wouldn't give the effort to buy anything more than a bed, a few bookshelves and a kitchen table & chairs. Your clothes sit in your old Hogwarts trunk at the bottom of your bed, and your living room sits empty.

.o.

And then one night, you head to the Hog's Head and you meet Victoire. So you chat a bit and you tell her about your divorce and she tells you about her job as a healer, and you get nice and drunk.

You wake up the next morning in your flat with her in your bed and you decide you don't want this to happen again. At least, not like this. However, despite this decision, it still happens three more times in the next two weeks.

.o.

You lay in bed, watching her sleep, formulating a totally ridiculous plan in your head. Because really, you like waking up with her but you don't like that only your drunkenness gets the two of you into bed. You'd much rather have her there because she wants to be.

She sighs in her sleep and you smile to yourself. Then her eyes flutter open and she sees where she is. "Oh good Merlin." She mutters.

"Morning." You say softly.

"We did it again, didn't we?" she asks.

"I suppose so." You say, rolling out of bed and pulling on your clothes.

"I guess I should be used to this by now." She says, beginning to pull on her clothes too.

"Hmm." You walk towards the kitchen, pausing in the doorway, "Can I get you some breakfast?"

Each time before this, you've asked and she's refused, so you're surprised with she sighs and says "Sure. We should probably talk about this anyways."

So she follows you into the kitchen and watches silently as you prepare your best dish; scrambled eggs and toast.

When it's done, she accepts her plate with a smile and you sit down across from each other.

Maybe it's the hot summer weather making you reckless, but you say "Look, Victoire,"

"Tori." She interrupts you, "Call me Tori."

"Tori then," you continue, "Obviously, this can't continue,"

"It can't?" she asks, smiling a little as she picks at her eggs.

"Not like this anyways." You say, "But how does dinner Friday night sound?"

She smiles at you. "Sounds like a plan."

"You free at six?"

"I'm free at five thirty." She tells you.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her eagerness, but agree.

.o.

When your first date is over, you don't go home drunk. You don't sleep together. Instead, you drop her off at her flat and she gives you a quick kiss goodnight. That's all. It's better. This is how the two of you are meant to begin, you decide, because it feels right.

.o.

Six months later, you wake up naked in your bed with Tori in your arms. Unlike the times before, you remember it all clearly because neither of you were drunk. You rest your chin on the top of her head and just breathe in her scent; cherry blossoms, freshly cut grass and warm summer nights.

And then you realise what you've done. You just slept with a girl 18 years younger than you. Technically, you're old enough to be her father.

This has you pulling away gently so she doesn't wake, and then you nearly sprint to the washroom. You stare into the mirror. You still can't make eye contact with yourself. You glance behind you and see the silver haired girl in your bed. The girl you love more than anything.

_So look yourself in the mirror, and tell yourself that __this is right._

You take a deep breath, turn back around and find your eyes.

They're not the same as they once were. They sparkle, they're happier. Where the brown was once dark and brooding, it's warm and welcoming. She's changed you, changed you for the better. It was about time you realised it.

.o.

"I think Gryffindors get so many happy endings because they're brave enough to pursue them." She tells you one afternoon as you sit cuddling on the couch.

She's moved into your flat, bringing her furniture and curtains and lovely homey touches with her. She fits into your little life so well, you love having her there with you. You like having her muggle romance novels beside your Herbology books, having her curtains on your windows, having her quilt cover the two of you during the night. You don't want her gone.

"It's possible." You tell her.

"Probable, I think." She says.

You smile and kiss her softly, and hold her contentedly.

.o.

"Love, I have news." She tells you one Saturday after she returns from a visit to the St. Mungo's. You set down your quill, put aside the essay you were marking and watch her intently.

"What is it Tori?" you ask.

She smiles widely, and her dainty flutters down to rest on her abdomen. "I'm pregnant."

You're shocked. You shouldn't be, come to think of it, but you are.

And so you say the one thing you can even consider saying in this situation. "Let's get married."

And it's a crap proposal, but everything about the two of you is weird and so she says yes and you're married in two months and you don't tell anybody. They'll find out soon enough. Because really, it's about you two, not anybody else.

And good Godric, you'll be happy.

* * *

**Review?**


End file.
